


It Ain't Exactly What You Planned

by MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Backstage, Black Parade Era, Black Parade Tour, Dom Gerard Way, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Good Old Fashioned Fucking, One Shot, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Black Parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/pseuds/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance
Summary: You are working backstage at a music venue and the lead singer of the band needs something in his room...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ms_Chem_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Chem_Queen/gifts).



> This work is something new for me and I know it won't be to everyone's taste. It's written in the second person so is hopefully submersive enough for you to feel like you're the main character in this fic. As always, I welcome any and all feedback either here or Twitter (@MCFOBR).
> 
>  
> 
> Additinally, this work is gifted to the amazingly talented Ms_Chem_Queen. They were one of my very first supporters and I'm so lucky to have them around still (and not just because they answer all of my constant AO3 questions!) Also, if you can believe it (cos I can't!) they have never had a work dedicated to them! Well, until now :)

You let out a huff of frustrated breath and scoop up the neatly folded stack of fluffy, white towels. You love your job but you are getting sick of picking up after other people’s mistakes; it was Tom’s job to make sure the band had everything they asked for but he forgot the towels and now the singer had complained. Your boss didn’t want to hear it when you tried to explain so now you’re the one who has to go apologise to some prima donna rock star wannabe for the error and pretend like you’re so sorry.  
You stomp down the corridor then remember you can’t look that pissed off when the guy opens the door so you adjust to a more sedate walk and try to paint your expression with contrition. Working these late nights are starting to get to you and tonight you just wanna get home before the sun comes up.  
There’s some muffled music coming from behind the first door you pass, something fast and furious but not a band you recognise. You pause briefly to try and catch a lyric and hear someone singing along. It makes you smile, genuinely; they sound so passionate yet carefree. You almost wish it was this band member who had wanted the damn towels so badly, they sound nice enough that they probably wouldn’t give you a hard time about it.  
You sigh and force yourself to take a few more steps forward, leaving the distant music behind and come to a stop outside the singer’s dressing room. You carefully shuffle the towels around, freeing a hand to knock on the door.  
The heavy wooden door swings open and you cast your eyes down to the stack of towels, keen to avoid the probably furious eyes of the minor celebrity in front of you. They don’t speak so you hold the towels slightly out towards them, hoping they will take them and slam the door closed again.  
There’s no movement and no sound.  
You look up, making sure your best apologetic expression is in place, and find yourself looking into a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes. The man in front of you is looking at you with curiosity, like he’s wondering why you’re there. He tilts his head to one side and you have to stop yourself from copying the movement.  
His hair is cut short and dyed strikingly platinum, almost blindingly white, his high cheek bones make his face seem gaunt and his thin lips are slowly curling into a tiny smile. He must have been wearing some kind of face paint; you can see a smear of black running from his temple to the edge of his jaw.  
“For me? You shouldn’t have,” he announces in a theatrical way, gesturing to the towels.  
“Yeah. Sorry, they’re late,” you say in a muted tone. You’re not sorry, not really, but you have to say it. The guy smiles a little wider and steps back from the door, sweeping his arm dramatically into the room.  
You step into the room and walk briskly over to the counter without looking in the direction of the singer. The surface is littered with various items of makeup and hair products but you find a space to set the towels down. As you turn, your hands now empty and awkwardly hanging at your sides, you hear the door softly click closed.  
“I’m Gerard,” the guy says as he takes a few steps towards you.  
“Okay…” your voice sounds a little shaky and you mentally curse yourself for it. You straighten up and fold your arms across your chest, showing him you’re not afraid of whatever verbal barrage he’s going to fire at you for the dumb towels.  
“What’s your name?” Gerard asks in a soft voice. You look up at him in confusion and find that burning curiosity is still the most dominant emotion on his face; he doesn’t look angry or upset.  
“My name…” you repeat to be sure you heard him correctly.  
“Yeah. Will you tell me or do I have to guess?” Gerard’s tone is teasing and his lips twist upwards into a smile, almost kind but bordering on a sneer.  
You tell him your name, without stuttering, and his eyes study your face; you feel under scrutiny but not in a bad way, more like he’s checking to see if your name fits your face. After a few seconds of silence he nods, seemingly satisfied with his analysis, and closes the gap between you in two more steps.  
“It’s a good name. I like it.” Gerard says your name, once… twice, as though he’s testing how it feels in his mouth, seeing how it tastes. He smiles each time the letters leave his lips and you find yourself smiling too; you like the way he says it, he makes your name sound better than anyone else ever has. There’s something about the way his voice deliberately enunciates each sound, the way his accent envelopes your name and makes it sound like the most precious thing in the world.  
“Thanks,” you manage to breathe out once he’s finished saying your name.  
He reaches past you and picks up one of the towels, his arm almost grazing your side but missing by inches. You subconsciously hold your breath and find yourself wishing he had touched you, even if it was just the sleeve of his jacket against your shirt.  
He looks in the mirror that fills the wall behind you and dabs at the strip of face paint with the edge of the towel. You feel like you’re in the way but he hasn’t asked you to move or leave so you don’t. Instead, you spend the time examining this strange man. He’s wearing something that resembles a demonic marching band outfit; it’s black where you would expect it to be red and piped with silver. It’s too decorative to be anything but a stage costume but he wears it so well that it could be his normal clothes. There’s something almost sexy about the way he stands, an edge that makes you sure he knows just how good he looks. The trousers are tight, almost too tight, and you know you’ve been staring too long when you hear him clear his throat.  
Your head immediately jerks upwards at the sound and you’re relived to see he’s still smiling… no, smirking. His eyes are twinkling and you notice something you hadn’t before; he’s actually really kind of beautiful. His eyes, his tiny teeth, the way his lips curl at the edges when he smiles, there’s an understated beauty in the shape of his face and the colour of his skin. The face paint has gone now and the formerly white towel, streaked with black, is hanging loosely in one hand.  
“Am I gonna get charged extra for this?” Gerard lifts the towel for your inspection but you can tell by his expression that he is messing around.  
“Maybe. Or I could just pretend like I brought you four, not five, and get rid of the evidence,” you say in a playful tone. It’s clear now he’s not going to be a diva about the lack of towels so you allow yourself to relax, play along with his teasing nature.  
“You’d really do that, for me?” Gerard looks overawed but you know it’s an act because he laughs and tosses the towel over his shoulder. You like the sound of that laugh, it makes a shiver run down your spine and you smile at him without meaning to.  
“Sure. You’re a big rock star, right? Don’t you always get what you want?”  
There’s a small silence as Gerard considers your words and suddenly the mood in the room changes; it’s still friendly but the light playfulness has gone, there’s an intensity now due to the longing look that flashes in his eyes.  
“What if I wanted you?” Gerard whispers, his voice low but intentions clear and powerful. Your heart freezes, misses a beat, then picks up at twice the speed when he locks eyes with you.  
“You don’t…” you start, meaning to accuse him of joking but he reaches out and his soft fingertips dance along your cheekbone, showing you he is serious. You swallow and try to keep your breathing regular. You inadvertently let out an almost inaudible whine when he pulls his hand away but he hears it and smiles at you in acknowledgment.  
“I do,” he answers your unspoken rebuttal then raises one eyebrow “but do you?”  
You do. Oh god, you do.  
You can’t answer him; your stomach is churning with excitement and you’re sure if you open your mouth you might say the wrong thing or ruin the whole moment. You make sure you look into his eyes, his deep and gorgeous eyes, as you nod your head.  
That’s all he was waiting for; you barely even see him move yet now his lips are on yours. His kiss is urgent, passionate, as he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you closer. You easily mould your lips to his and let him work your mouth open. He tastes better than you could have imagined and you sigh as the flavour of him floods your mouth; there’s a sweet, smokiness to him and it makes you crave more.  
You feel his hand start to trace your spine so you lift one hand to run it through his short hair; there’s not enough to grab so you just let your fingers play with it and run along his scalp. He moans under your lips every time your fingers hit his hairline so you focus on the nape of his neck, caressing the skin.  
The feel of Gerard’s tongue, suddenly sliding alongside yours, causes you to shudder and he doesn’t miss it. You feel, more than hear, his soft laughter and his hand stops following its pattern up and down your back. You don’t want him to stop so you cup his head, forcing your mouths closer together and tease his tongue with your own.  
There’s a renewed passion between you now, your lips moving faster as your tongues clash and both of your heavy breathing are the only sounds in the room. You can’t seem to hold his head close enough and both of his hands are gripping your hips tighter than should be comfortable but you enjoy it. Gerard is the one to pull away, sucking in air as soon as your lips separate and you’re raggedly doing the same.  
He lets go of your hips, using his hands instead to unfasten the silver buttons of his jacket. You watch as you try to fill your lungs without panting, your breath catching as the first button opens to reveal Gerard is shirtless beneath. Button by button, the pale skin of his chest is exposed; the stark white strip almost glowing in the middle of the heavy black material.  
Subconsciously, you lick your lips as you wonder how his skin would feel under your lips, the scent of it, the taste…  
“Do you know how good you look when you do that?” Gerard breathes as he shrugs out of his jacket. Puzzled, you unwillingly look away from his perfect body to look into his eyes as you speak.  
“Do what?”  
“Lick your damn lips,” he answers with a lustful look. You realise you must have done it while you were watching him undress and, embarrassed, you bite your bottom lip without thinking. Gerard growls softly and before you know it he’s lifting you to sit on the counter while his lips are pressed against yours once more.  
You kick off your shoes and let your legs rest gently against the side his hips so he can move in close to you. His hands are exploring your back again and you long to feel the soft skin of his chest against yours. As you kiss, Gerard tugs at your shirt; he isn’t really trying to work the buttons of your uniform but you can tell he wants it gone. You pull back slightly and he picks up on the signal, releasing your lips so you can undress.  
He watches you, just like you watched him, while your trembling hands work as fast as they can to remove your shirt. You let it drop to the floor then freeze, wondering if you should take your bra off too. You’re in danger of over thinking it so you try to let go of your inhibitions and unfasten your bra; as it falls to the floor you see a movement on Gerard’s face. He doesn’t lick his lips but his mouth twitches like he’s thinking about saying something, judging from his smile it was something filthy.  
“I saw that,” you tell him in a flirty voice.  
“What?” Gerard’s eyes can’t stop flicking over your exposed skin and you can feel it tingle where his look hits.  
“That movement. You were going to say something,” you challenge.  
“I was just wondering about that counter,” he answers, his eyes finally settling on yours.  
“Really? The counter?”  
“Yeah, and if it’s gonna be strong enough for me to fuck you on it,” he states bluntly still staring into your eyes. There’s something about the way he says ‘fuck’, the softness of the ‘f’ and the harsh click of the ‘k’ as it leaves his lips that sends a wave of desire through you.  
You take a breath to try and compose yourself but it has little effect. You want to tell him there’s only one way to find out, you want to tell him you don’t care as long as he does fuck you, you want to tell him to stop wasting time and get to it, but you don’t; you can barely breathe, let alone speak. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and reach out to touch that perfect, porcelain chest. He shudders slightly and closes his eyes once your fingers are on him; he feels warmer than you expected and the softness is like nothing you imagined.  
He murmurs your name as you trail one finger slowly down to his belt, his eyes still closed and his breathing coming in small, rapid bursts just like yours. You stop with your hand resting against the leather and he jerks his hips towards you. You would laugh at the action, musing on how the balance of control and desire keeps switching between you, but you notice something more important; how hard he already is.  
You edge your hand lower, palming him through the dark material of his tight trousers, and hear him groan in response.  
You don’t have chance to move your hand before he leans forward and kisses you deeply. Your chests are almost touching so you wriggle forward at the same moment as he grabs your ass to push you against him. Your hand is still pressed against him, now sandwiched between his groin and your own.  
Moving your hand against him causes friction for you too, making you both moan into each other’s mouths. He tries to work his hand in after a few minutes, to unfasten his trousers, but your flesh is pressed so tight that it’s almost impossible.  
“Clothes off, then I’m not letting you go again,” he growls, breaking the kiss to work on his own zip. He looks so desperate, so sexy, that you forget to undress yourself, too preoccupied with watching him again. He toes his boots off in the same moment as he pulls his trousers down his legs. You’re staring, again, but this time he doesn’t notice; he just tugs down his black boxers and leaves them on the floor with the rest of his discarded clothes.  
He sees now; he looks up and catches you staring at his naked body. He smirks as your eyes drink in every part of him, from his subtly toned legs to his smooth chest and hard cock.  
“You want this?” Gerard asks as he wraps a hand around himself. You nod, breathing hard while he slowly strokes himself, his eyelids fluttering.  
“Fuck, yes,” you whisper, licking your lips again.  
“Stop teasing me and get your clothes off then,” he says in a rough voice.  
Even though you’re not sure if your legs will hold you up, you stand up so you can undress. You pull down your trousers and underwear in one fluid motion and leave them in a heap next to his.  
Gerard can’t wait for you to get back on the counter, he steps forward in an instant and he has you caught up in another passionate kiss. His fingers are as ravenous as his lips, touching every part of your body they can while his tongue explores your mouth. This time there’s nothing in the way as your hips grind together, giving you both a taste of what’s to come.  
“How hard can you take it?” Gerard murmurs against your ear. His lips are on your neck, sucking your throbbing pulse into his mouth and licking at your skin. You want him to bite down, you hope he will, but he releases your flesh and kisses back up to your ear. “How hard?”  
“As hard as you can give it,” you answer in a breathless voice. You want him to take you, dominate you, make you scream and writhe with pleasure. He chuckles against your skin, his breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and a warmth pool in your stomach.  
Without warning, he grabs your shoulders and spins you on the spot so you’re facing away from him. You watch in the mirror as his arms sneak around your waist and he nibbles at your neck. He works his way to your ear, his tongue lapping at the lobe and making you tremble.  
“I love how we look together,” he tells you, his words almost as seductive as his hands massaging your hip bones. You smile at him through the mirror and he returns the gesture. You can feel him, hot and hard, digging against the small of your back and you flex your ass against him.  
You can’t wait any longer so you tell him, beg him, to fuck you. He runs one hand up your inner thigh, seeking out your wet hole, making you moan when he finds it. With one finger inside you, he uses his other hand to put pressure on your back; you let him bend you over the counter.  
“Spread you legs,” he demands, his tone suggestive and commanding enough to make you comply without question. He withdraws his finger but before you can be too disappointed you feel the heat of his hard cock pressed against your entrance. He holds it there though, teasing you.  
“Please, fuck me,” you whimper, locking eyes with Gerard’s reflection in the mirror.  
“Are you gonna beg me? Are you dirty, babe?” Gerard’s tone is authoritative and seductive. Your stomach clenches as he stares at you, waiting for an answer.  
“I’m yours,” you answer, knowing it’s completely true; he could do anything to do you right now and you would take it, thank him for it. Somehow, this stunning, blonde, mysterious, powerful man has cast a spell, taken everything from you… but he’s gonna give you so much more in return.  
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Gerard says with a grin. There’s no time to reply; he’s pushing forward and, finally, you feel his hot, throbbing cock work its way deep inside you. You groan at the sensation of being filled by him and you hear him grunt as you clench around him.  
One of his hands grabs your hip, holding you in position while the other runs up your spine, stopping to cradle the back of your head and lace his fingers tightly into your hair. He lifts your head slightly, pulling your hair close to your scalp, and keeps it upright so you have no choice but to look in the mirror, at the two of you joined together and breathing hard in unison.  
“Watch. I want you to see everything,” he says in a breathless voice. You run your tongue along your bottom lip as you nod, letting him know you understand.  
Gerard pulls back then slams into you, hard. It’s enough to make every item on the counter shake and as your arm shoots out to steady yourself you knock a heavy bottle to the floor, making a dull thud. Neither of you seem to notice, or care, and the sound is barely audible over your groans.  
You grip the edge of the counter in time for the next thrust, this time only making the counter shake against the wall. There’s a single thump from the other side of the wall and it makes Gerard pause, his face slightly amused. You stare into his eyes in the reflection, silently asking for an explanation.  
“Live a little, Frankie,” Gerard calls to the mirror, his voice sounding exactly like he’s in the middle of fucking someone. He’s answered by another single bang from the next room, the room where the music was coming from earlier. “Let’s make him jealous, huh?”  
You want to ask who Frankie is but Gerard drives into you again, making your open mouth only emit a deep moan from the feel of him inside you. You push back, desperate for him to work harder and he rewards you with a body shaking thrust. You know you’re screaming too loud and quickly clamp your mouth closed. Gerard reaches under your chin and tries to pull your lips apart with his thumb as he keeps the thrusts slow and shallow. You open your mouth but only to accept his thumb, sucking it and twirling your tongue over the tip.  
Gerard groans, picking up the pace to match his hips to your teasing tongue. You meet each thrust, driving back as Gerard pushes forward into you. You’re starting to shake and when Gerard slams into you again, you know he’s hitting exactly the right spot. He knows too, the look in his eyes is intense but knowing.  
“You like that? You feel so fucking good,” he pants, not giving you a chance to answer before fucking your mouth with his thumb, exactly the same as the motion of his relentless hips, his cock stretching you.  
The sound of flesh on flesh and the wet sound of his thumb in your mouth is only just louder than your combined moaning. You feel him push faster, harder, making your body convulse as you involuntarily squeeze him. The feel of his hard cock filling you, fucking you harder then you’ve ever had before, is almost too much.  
“Don’t stop,” you manage to moan, your voice strained.  
“Hold tight. I’m gonna make that pussy all mine,” Gerard grunts. Two more forceful thrusts have you gripping the counter then moaning in pure pleasure as your orgasm peaks. On the third thrust Gerard’s hips falter and with one more deep push he’s filling you with his hot, sticky climax.  
He stays there, buried inside, you until you both stop panting and shaking. Finally, you can uncurl your fingers from the edge of the counter and start to stand upright. Your legs are barely able to hold you but Gerard has his hands on your waist, his face hidden against your shoulder.  
“You done? You’re a fucking whore, Gee,” a voice sounds through the wall.  
“Whatever. Was you jerking off to that, Frankie?” Gerard calls back, briefly lifting his head but then kissing your neck as soon as he’s finished speaking.  
“A little. I’m not done though. You know the drill, send them through,” Frankie shouts. Gerard raises his head and smirks at you through the mirror.  
“Off you go then,” Gerard says and slaps your bare ass. It’s not until Gerard tilts his head in the direction of the room next door that you realise Frankie was talking about you…


End file.
